


Disconnect

by Woodface



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-28
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2018-01-14 01:36:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1247884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woodface/pseuds/Woodface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Filling in the blanks leading up and post-Extreme Risk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Disconnect

**Author's Note:**

> I know it's late to actually get involved in this Fandom and it's probably all been said by now, but my Voyager rewatch compelled me to give this a go.

His back is aching where she's scratched him and he slowly stretches out his legs and arms, glancing at her where she's sprawled on the bed beside him. Her lips are parted, her hair sticking to her cheeks and she's struggling to catch her breath.

"I think you drew blood," he teases, feeling rather smug because he could do this to her. She doesn't even try to respond, just elbows him in the side and he laughs until the sound gets stuck in his throat.

It's an unbidden thought that crosses his mind like it does too often for his tastes. It keeps bugging him and he tries to push it aside. It's about as irrational as his jealous of that hologram that was programmed to think he had sex with her. Tom's never been the jealous kind. He can count on one hand the girls he's cared enough about to make him feel anything close to jealous. Now, he can't shake it. It poisons even moments like these which have become far and too few apart.

"I can't believe you didn't know it wasn't me," he speaks the thought before he can stop himself and he instantly wants to pull the words back. They never talked about it, went straight back to making out in his car. But it's still there, even now. He knows it's not her fault. Nothing's going to be gained by even thinking this way. He definitely knows he fucked up when he hears her breath catch and suddenly she's sitting up beside him.

"What do you want me to say?" she demands, pulling the sheets with her as she stands.

He doesn't move, doesn't roll to look at her. He knows exactly how she's looking at him now.

"Maybe I was just glad to have someone actually pay attention to me instead of pushing me away," she speaks in short, hurried bursts as she moves around the room, gathering up her clothes.

He needs to answer. Needs to think of something to say pretty damn fast, but he can hardly breathe at the guilt of dragging this up. It's his mess, after all. He shoved her away.

She starts saying something else, but it ends in a strangled growl and then the doors to his room are opening and she's out of there.

~~

They pretend it never happened. After all, he managed not to die on the Demon planet and they have dinner together to celebrate his lack of suffocation.

"Well, I know one thing for sure," he says after they've toasted for the fifth time that evening.

"One sounds about right." She's leaning comfortably against him now, sounding actually relaxed and a little pleased.

He laughs and pulls her closer, deciding to ignore the teasing as he's feeling pretty happy right now. "That copy of me is pretty damn lucky he's got a copy of you around. Harry's a nice guy, but I'd be ready to strangle him if I'd be stuck on that planet for an eternity with just him for company."

She snorts derisively at his sappiness and empties her glass without replying. He's so damn pleased that neither of them are bolting for the door that he doesn't notice the way her fingers curl into the fabric of his pants.

~~

"We've got to stop doing this," he's still buried deep inside of her as he leans his face against the side of her throat. His muscles are burning, but he manages to keep them both standing, her with her back against the wall. "My bruises are getting bruises."

She rolls her hips against him and her fingers curl into his hair, tugging hard but there's nothing this woman can do to him that's too much. "You seemed to like it a moment ago," she reminds him, tightening her muscles around him in a way that makes him wish he was still eighteen.

"I'm not talking about the sex," he nips at her throat, tasting the salt on her skin. His hand drifts between them, his fingers tracing the curves of her body in a more gentle exploration now that they worked out their anger issues.

"I am," she makes an impatient noise and grabs his hand, bringing it up to her breast in a silent demand.

He ignores it and presses kisses along her jaw, trying to mellow her mood and get her to slow down for once.

"Tom," she complains and she does that move again and she might just get her way if she keeps that up.

"Patience," he brushes his lips over her ear, but they're at two different rhythms now and her nails dig into his skin when he doesn't match her. He can feel her body grow stiff and tense against him and her hand is a fist against his shoulder now. 

Sighing, he draws back, but she doesn't meet his eyes and the moment she can, she squirms away from him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she brushes him off and starts gathering up her clothes. "I'm just not in the mood."

They've been here before all too many times by now; They fight, they end up in his quarters and she leaves before he can even think of a way to talk to her. "No. Of course, you aren't," he can't hold back the impatience in his voice. 

She doesn't even respond anymore, and he can't be bothered to try and talk her into staying. He doesn't stick around to watch her walk out again and heads into bathroom to wash the scent of them away. When he comes out again, it's like she's left that endless Void behind.

 

~~

A week after they find out about the holo programs, he still feels sick to the stomach. The Doctor's kept her on light duty and Tom can only imagine how that went down. He's itching to talk to her, but he knows he won't be able to keep everything swirling in his head from spilling out and he owes it to her to not let that happen.

So he does the next best thing he can think of.

"Aren't you on duty, Lieutenant?" Chakotay is a hard man to get alone, but being late for his shift on the bridge, Tom manages it. 

The mess hall is completely deserted as most people are already on duty and even Neelix's got his head so deep in his pots he shouldn't be able to overhear them.

"How is she?" It's probably the one question that keeps Chakotay from telling him to report to the bridge.

"Why don't you ask her that yourself?" Chakotay suggests. There's a hardness to his tone that Tom reckons he probably deserves. After all, Chakotay knows more than anyone else just how much Tom's failed her.

"Because I know I'm the last person she needs to see right now," he leans his hands on the chair opposite the Commander and waits.

Chakotay takes his time to put the cup with whatever's passing as coffee this week down on the table. Tom likes to imagine that there's disapproval and even some dislike in the look he's getting. "The last thing B'Elanna needs is people pulling away from her." 

The words are carefully chosen, but they still feel like a slap in the face and Tom straightens up. There's nothing he can say, not when those words resound within him.

~~

It takes him another day to admit to himself that Chakotay's right and he feels like even a bigger ass when he does. He of all people should know where burning all your bridges can lead you. 

It's not even a conscious decision when he ends up at her quarters. He half expects her to turn him away, but she doesn't even ask who it is as she tells him to enter. She's curled up on her sofa, her feet tucked underneath her and she has a PADD in her hand. Her eyes are wide in surprise before the look is quickly replaced by one of trepidation. "Tom."

"Hey," he finds himself rooted to the spot as the doors slide closed behind him. His mouth is dry and his mind is a blank so they stare at each other for far too long before he manages to get another word out. "How are you?" 

"Better," she doesn't offer much else, but she hasn't told him to get out yet so that's got to be a victory.

"Good," he nods. Pauses a moment too long. "I just wanted to see how you're doing. Let you know that if there's anything, I'm here." It's not nearly enough, but he's damned if he knows what would be. Nothing he says can take back the past weeks.

"I know," she says slowly after what feels like an age. 

He can't even begin to understand the expression on her face now. "Good. That's good." It doesn't change the fact that everything's awkward and he feels his courage fading. "I'll leave you to it then." 

"Tom." He's already turning when she stops him, his hand hovering over the touchpad. "I was looking over the specs of the Delta Flyer… maybe we can go over them some time."

He can't quite believe it, but she's really there, waiting for an answer from him and he really shouldn't be making her wait. "Sure," he breathes, unable to hold back the hint of relief in his voice. "When-"

"How about now?" 

"Now works," he nods and he only barely manages to suppress a shiteating grin. "Let's talk shop."

"What?" she gives him a strange look, but this is familiar and he actually chuckles.

"20th century expression," he clarifies. Now he's really grinning, but he doesn't care if she thinks he's an idiot. He is, but there's worse things she can think of him.

"Of course," she rolls her eyes at him and turns her attention back to the PADD. Before he knows it, she's launching into an explanation about things his brain can barely grasp right now. After all, he's pretty sure that just for a moment, there was the slightest hint of what he thinks might have been a smile.


End file.
